


Harry Potter: God of Luck

by LadyHallen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deity Au, Deity Harry Potter, Friendship, Gen, God Harry, Harry becomes a God, Some OC's - Freeform, The Golden Trio, slightly crack?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 01:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17356286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHallen/pseuds/LadyHallen
Summary: If someone believed enough, it would come true.Magic needed belief to come true, and what was prayer, what was faith but belief? Of course Harry Woke Up.





	Harry Potter: God of Luck

If someone believed enough, it would come true.

Magic needed belief to come true, and what was prayer, what was faith but belief? Of course Harry Woke Up.

.

* * *

 

.

It started off as a joke, like all things do before they turn too serious to be refuted as anything as a joke.

Harry had the most ridiculous and stupid luck in the Auror Department, which had its roots from when he’d accidentally elbowed their teacher on his first day and caused as bit of panic among the other trainees when it had caused the man’s nose to gush blood. To everyone’s astonishment, he didn’t get murdered on the spot, but got congratulated for his excellent reflexes.

Two missions with different squads resulted in him having to display that same ridiculous luck cemented things. It continued until he was no longer a trainee and an Auror captain.

“Dawlish, what’s that?” Harry asked, pointing to the mess beside his cubicle. It was an awful sight, filled with little pieces of parchment, odds and bobs, strings and even some blood.

“It’s a shrine,” Dawlish said with a smirk. “For Harry Potter, god of Luck.”

Something in Harry’s brain screeched to a halt.

“Say what?” he asked, pretty sure that his ears were hexed or something.

“Harry Potter, god of Luck. Your Luck is pretty stupendous, Potter.”

At Harry’s disbelieving look, Dawlish intoned, “If you pray to Harry Potter, you can be sure of good luck in your missions. Pray to Harry Potter, and suddenly a malfunctioning toilet will be unclogged. Pray to Harry Potter, god of luck, who tips the balance. If he doesn’t like you, you’d have an awful day.”

It was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

“Dawlish, I don’t care about it,” he sighed, before looking around and roping a poor trainee to clean up the mess.

Harry should have been more specific in his instructions, because he just said get rid of it, not throw it away, or destroy it.

The Shrine, as it was titled, got moved to the trainee locker rooms and expanded until it had a full blown statue and an altar to put offerings in. This worked very well, because full-fledged Aurors usually avoided the locker rooms and this pretty much guaranteed that Harry would not discover it.

It was an inside joke among Aurors, and it was pretty harmless fun.

Except.

One day, Harry came back from St. Mungo’s limping. He had always healed fast, so he just credited it to his healing factor that he walked on that same day and had to give back his cane.

The cafeteria always had his favorite lemon tart and his lunch was always hot no matter how late it was. He credited it to having casted a more powerful heating charm than usual.

Then one day, a giant acromantula went rogue and had to be put down. Ron had the brilliant idea of exploding it, covering everyone in the vicinity. Except for Harry, who had a clean one foot radius where the slime simply  _avoided him_.

“Really, Harry? You couldn’t have cast a shield charm on me too?” Seamus asked, exasperated.

Harry just smiled, helping in siphoning off the slime and the blood. He doesn’t say that his wand was nowhere near his hand and that he didn’t even think about shield charms. He didn’t freak out about it. After living the first seventeen years of his life as a Living Horcrux, strange things happening to him were par for course.

And then he started hearing them.

.

* * *

 

.

Early morning riser that he was did not mean he was a morning person. Habit ingrained deep in him made him incapable of sleeping in.

This meant coffee. A lot of coffee.

He was in his third cup and feeling marginally more awake when he heard the voice in his head.

 _‘By Potter’s Luck, I will solve this case. If I do, I’ll sacrifice my lemon tarts and light some incense,’_  the voice said angrily and desperately. It sounded like a young man on the verge of tears.

Harry did not choke on his cup of coffee, but that was only due to the exhaustion borne from thirty six hours of desk work.

He blinked several times and dismissed it as a hallucination.

At least, he consoled himself, even if I’m hearing voices again, they’re not talking about murdering and ripping and eating. Casting his mind to the first time he thought he was hearing voices, a young voice was indeed a vast improvement over a hungry basilisk.

.

* * *

 

.

Knee deep into the archives and cross-referencing old cases to new ones, he heard another one.

This time, with his mind marginally more awake and being completely alone, Harry jumped when he heard a woman’s  voice going,  _‘Harry Potter himself will keep me awake because if I fall asleep on this assignment, Dawlish is going to skin me alive.’_

Harry dropped the report on the floor and groaned.

“Fuck this,” he muttered.

He closed his eyes and opened them to his Mental Palace. There was a letter on the desk he had fashioned on a whim and upon touching it, he knew what was happening.

Sarah Brown, Lavander Brown’s cousin. Fell ill to the flu last week and asked for an extension for all her desk assignments. Only finished half-way and asking for a miracle because she was so behind it wasn’t funny.

Harry opened his eyes in the real world and thought that while Sarah not falling asleep would be good, her finding all her references faster and getting even two hours of sleep would be better. He thought about it for a moment and found that yes, he could grant her that at least.

.

* * *

 

.

Mentally controlling somebody’s luck, Harry found, was simple.

Controlling somebody’s luck where it didn’t affect everyone else’s was something else entirely.

Because luck was all over the place and there was absolutely nobody controlling it. Except for Harry.

He could direct it to do whatever he wanted and it was a bit terrifying to have this type of command over anybody.

He could make somebody trip and die. He could make a person win the lottery forever. He could also make them choke on their sandwich while eating.

Small, terrible things that he did not like to dwell on.

.

* * *

 

.

Prayers drifted their way to him.

The more smoke involved, the faster it got to him. The more emotion, the louder he heard it. The more they believed, the more he felt the empathy and the need to answer.

There were, of course, repeat people who prayed to him. It took a simple matter of balancing their luck. Too much good and the Karma waiting on them would get bigger. It was merely allowing which bad luck he allowed that would not ruin their day too much.

Such as allowing a person’s shirt to be ruined but making them meet their potential love interest while they wept in the bathroom about the silk shirt.

.

* * *

 

.

Harry didn’t even blink anymore when the next prayers he heard were from Hermione.

‘ _Harry James Potter, this so called god of Luck. Come here this instant.’_  The voice was Hermione. The tone was Hermione. It was so clear that it almost felt like Hermione was standing behind him, about to twist his ears.

Probable god of luck or no, Harry was in no way ready to face Hermione Granger in a temper.

Mentally bracing himself, he apparated to where he felt pulled to and found himself face to face with his upset friend.

“Err, hi, Hermione. What can I do for you?” he asked, mentally wincing. He’s waiting for the ear twist. He’s  _prepared_  for it.

Instead, she groaned. “Merlin’s pants!” she shouted, stomping away from him. “I thought Ron was joking?”

He blinked at her in confusion, watching her dump tea leaves in a teapot and summoning the boiling hot water with a flick of her wand.

“What, Hermione?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I just lost a bet. Because Ron told me you’ve become some sort of minor deity for the Aurors. And I told him it was absurd. Because gods don’t exist!”

Harry’s eyebrows have gone so high up his forehead. “You made a bet.” Against Ron, who was an Auror. Who, like all Aurors, had their lucks slightly balanced to the good side by Harry. Hermione, who worked in a desk, did not have such luck skewed slightly because he didn’t think she’d need it.

“Uhm..”

“And another thing,” Hermione continued without pause. “Did you know that Ron is using your blessing to find bargain sales? We have so many potion ingredients that were sold for half the price. We could start our own store if we want, we’d only need the capital to buy a spot in Diagon Alley or Hogsmead!”

She placed the tray in front of him. For the first time, he saw the worry in her face.

She touched his hands and he grasped it tightly.

“Are you alright, Harry?” she asked, voice going gentle in the rare moments when she thought he needed comfort. “Did. What happened to make you..?”

He smiled at her. “Its…well…You do know how our spells work, don’t you? If you believe it will work, and you have the will and the magic to make it work, then it will happen. That’s how accidental magic happens for children. Well…somehow, someone made a shrine.”

Hermione looked bemused. “And I take it people prayed,” she added for him. “It doesn’t…hurt you, does it?”

Harry shook his head. “No. Just. Sometimes, it’s distracting. I see a balance of scales for each person and a large one for the whole world.”

Finally, he shared something that’s been disturbing him for a while. “Did you know that the Lovegoods have the most weirdly balanced Luck scales I have ever seen?” his voice was almost plaintive.

Hermione laughed at him, and all was right in the world.

.

* * *

 

.

Harry realized he needed to leave the Auror department when all those cold cases started getting solved, and that all crimes suddenly happened around Aurors, who had the full authority to do it.

A petty thief stole from Kingsley of all people and ended up getting caught. And then, in processing, they all realized he was also responsible for the murder of a dozen other wizards in the past three years.

It was alarming and Harry had to leave. He was unconsciously skewing things in the Aurors favor.

“Where are we going, mate?” Ron asked, because of course he left with Harry. Ron didn’t like being an Auror and only stayed for him.

Harry slumped against the wall, looking around the passersby hurrying in their grocery shopping.

“Guess we could make a store,” Harry said. He’s a bit disappointed, because he did want to help capture criminals. But if he stayed too long, people would start talking. “What kind, is my question.”

Ron smiled. “It’s us. We’ll figure it out, don’t you worry. And if you don’t have a plan, there’s always Hermione.”

Ron was the absolute best and Harry did not deserve his friendship.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is Harry-centric, but I really loved writing the dynamics between Harry, Ron and Hermione. They're so amazing together.
> 
> I'm also available at [tumblr](http://ladyhallen.tumblr.com)


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